


Theatre Retreat

by Aja, earlgreytea68



Series: Hays Code Love Scene [3]
Category: Shenanigans (Original Universe)
Genre: Alcoholism, Hooking up, M/M, Shenanigans (Original Universe) - Freeform, South Pacific, UST, smores, theatre retreat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 16:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aja/pseuds/Aja, https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: “I wonder if you know him as well as you think you do,” Jonah says.





	Theatre Retreat

 

“Oh,” says Jane. “Wow.”

Jonah glances back at her from where he’s been watching Elliot attempt a ludicrous shadow pantomime version of “Honeybun” across the bonfire, each hand gesture more elaborate and oddly elegant and borderline lewd than the last. He wasn’t aware that he’d been staring so openly, but when he looks at Jane, her eyes are fixed shrewdly on him, conveying a mix of sudden understanding and bafflement.

He inhales sharply. Caught out. That doesn’t happen to him much, if ever. But then Jane’s always been observant; it’s one of the things that make her such a good foil for Elliot. Jonah likes that about her—usually.

He takes the opportunity to spear a few marshmallows on his roasting stick, and she watches him, waiting for him to say something.

Well. No use attempting to deny it.

“There are worse weaknesses to have,” he says after a moment. “You of all people should know.”

“I don’t have _weaknesses_ ,” Jane responds, lifting her eyebrows, “I have _friendships_.”

“And you think I don’t?”

“The last thing I’d call the two of you together is a friendship,” Jane says. Then she says again, “ _Wow_.”

“You don’t actually need to keep repeating that,” says Jonah.

“It’s just... unexpected,” says Jane. Her brow furrows. “You know he’s... not—”

“Yes, of course I know, i’m not an idiot,” says Jonah. “I can see the obvious.” He glances involuntarily to where Nicholas sits beside Elliot, trying to make some sort of Jenga tower out of hot dogs.

“It’s just,” says Jane. “Frankly, I’m surprised you’d let yourself in for such a bad idea.”

“I’m not one to court needless disappointment,” Jonah says curtly. “That should tell you something. Let’s just say I’ve entered wait-and-see mode.”

Jane sends him a skeptical look that would do Elliot proud. “You can’t really think there’s something there?”

Jonah shrugs. “You know he doesn’t always know what he wants.”

“Well,” says Jane. “Yes. He loves denial. But let’s face it, he’s not exactly your biggest fan.”

“I wonder if you know him as well as you think you do,” Jonah says.

Jane’s eyes narrow. “What?”

“As I said,” Jonah says, “I can see the obvious. And the not-so-obvious.”

He takes his roasted marshmallow spit out of the fire and gets to his feet.

“Keep your eyes on Elliot,” he says. “And watch this.”

He chooses one of the sophomore theatre students—Drew, a recent transfer from Northwestern with bright eyes and perfectly coiffed hair who Jonah’s had his eye on for a while. They’ve low-level flirted a few times over lunch; he’s basic, but hot. Jonah would take him home, and probably will at some point, so why not now?

He catches Drew’s eye and flashes him a smile before moving over to him. Drew’s been putting the moves on another theatre student, one of the sailors in this production—but, let’s face it, Jonah’s playing Emile DeBecque, and he’s the student of the moment, so it’s no problem for him to angle Drew away from Mr. Nothing-like-a-dame and subtly push him out of the picture.

“Fancy a hit?” he says, removing one of the marshmallows from his skewer and holding it enticingly in front of Drew’s lips.

Drew’s eyes light up and he says, “Please, are you kidding? I was like trying to get one of those marshmallow sticks earlier so I could roast a few, and it was like this crowd went all _Lord of the Flies_.” And then, god help him, he bends and opens his mouth underneath Jonah’s outstretched fingers like he’s doing the limbo.

“It’s a good thing I’ve come fortified,” says Jonah, dropping the marshmallow into Drew’s mouth.

It’s strange how he can feel Elliot’s gaze on him from this distance, even across the field and with a giant bonfire in between them. He can feel Elliot’s eyes cutting away and then returning to him, and then doing it again. He should be used to it by now, because he’s been feeling it for months, maybe even longer—this unnerving tug between them.

But just now he’s proving a point to Jane, and so he ignores the eyes on his back and runs his finger beneath Drew’s chin. “Best to let it melt in your mouth,” he purrs.

Drew lets out a delectable noise, and then ruins the impression entirely by opening his mouth with marshmallow still coating it to say, “You know, they told me you have the best lines in Emerson, and I thought that was referring to acting until now.”

“Who says it isn’t?” Jonah winks at him.

Drew laughs, and then blinks and says, “Huh?”

Jonah plops one of the marshmallows into his mouth and swallows extravagantly.

“Are not we all but poor players?” he says, trailing his fingers down over Drew’s arm. “I’m fairly certain you know your part in our current scenario.”

Drew laughs, and says, “Yeah,” and then says, “Wait, you mean, like, top or bottom?” and Jonah, his smile frozen into place, is about to abandon attempts at communication and just start feeling him up—

—when Elliot barrels into his side.

“Whups,” he says, sounding tipsy and unapologetic. He sends a dismissive nod of greeting in Drew’s direction and then looks up at Jonah, flushed and gorgeous. “Hey,” he says. “I need you to win me a no-Wikipedia no-Google bet.”

“Do you,” says Jonah. “Just now?”

Elliot shrugs. “Campfire quiz lightning round waits for no man.”

“You were just miming showtunes. You’ve moved on already?”

“The point,” says Elliot, undaunted, “is that Nicholas is saying Ezio Pinza dubbed Rossano Brazzi in the film and I say Brazzi did his own singing, so which is it, Monsieur De Becque?”

“I’m guessing you know perfectly well that Georgio Tozzi dubbed Rossano Brazzi,” says Jonah, “and this is a lazy, transparent effort on your part.”

“Transparent?” Elliot scoffs. “Transparent how?”

“I recognize a blatant attempt to steal marshmallows when I see one.”

Jonah is in no way prepared for the grin Elliot breaks into, even though he should be used to the things Elliot’s sudden smiles do to him by now.

“Pleeeease,” Elliot says. “We’re all out over there and I told Nicholas I’d bring back enough for S’mores.” He holds out his skewer, and Jonah dutifully slides a few marshmallows from his onto Elliot’s, but Elliot doesn’t leave. Of course he doesn’t, because Drew is still standing there, and Elliot’s game, whether or not he’s aware of it, is to cockblock whoever Jonah’s hitting on until they get fed up and leave.

Jonah is probably gazing down too openly into his face, speaking of transparency, but Elliot’s glance is darting around, rarely fixing on Jonah. “I haven’t congratulated you,” he says. “On the part. So. Congratulations.”

“I appreciate that,” says Jonah, “but you don’t have to indulge in flattery. I’m aware you don’t actually think I’m a good singer.”

Elliot turns red. For someone who claims to be an emotionally detached icicle, Elliot blushes more than anyone Jonah knows. “I never said that,” he says. “I just,” his voice drops to a mumble, “think baritones are overrated.”

Jonah laughs before he can help it. Elliot looks a bit startled, and a bit pleased, probably because he still expects Jonah to be offended when he says things like this. But Jonah knows him now; by this point he is hopelessly inured to Elliot’s casual insults disguised as aesthetic observations, or so he likes to think.

It dawns on him that he may have proven his point to Jane, presuming Jane is watching all this, but Jane’s also proven hers: it’s a bad idea, him and Elliot. _Such_ a bad idea.

Next to Jonah, impatient, Drew says, “Hey, man, you were saying, about that, um, part you wanted me to play?”

Jonah slides his gaze away from Elliot. Drew may be unintelligent, and boring, but he’s nice enough, and Jonah would never be so rude as to leave a pull in the lurch. “Why don’t you wait for me inside,” he murmurs. “I’ll be along in a minute.” Drew nods, nods at Elliot, and disappears.

Elliot’s smile tightens. “Don’t let me keep you from your date with the cockeyed optimist,” he says.

Jonah tilts his head. “Would you prefer I wash that man right out of my hair?”

Elliot blanches and physically repels away from him, jolting back on his heels. “I don’t care what you do,” he says. “Which is a good thing, because I’d get exhausted trying to monitor your hookups.”

“True,” says Jonah mildly. “Far easier to just drop an endless string of jokes about what a slut I am.”

“If the casual observation fits,” says Elliot sourly.

“Oh, it fits,” says Jonah, annoyed into doubling down on the innuendo, just for Elliot. He leans in. “It fits nice and tight.”

Elliot jerks away, reddening even more.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make happy talk,” says Jonah.

“Oh, my _god_ ,” says Elliot, wrinkling his nose and stomping away.

Jonah represses a smile and glances back at Jane, who was apparently watching, because she shoots him an incredulous look. Elliot finds her and sits down at her side, apparently ranting vociferously about Jonah. Jane looks back at him, and Jonah leaves her to ponder what she’s just seen.

He has an appointment to keep.


End file.
